Kite
by Goddess of Hate
Summary: /Papa D POV./ My relationship with my Father will always be the spear in my side.


I am perhaps not so sane as I would like to believe.

Once, a full eternity ago, me and my Father travelled all over the world. He took me with him everywhere. He seemed hardly aware of my presence by his side though. I can recall several times where he would leave my side, promising to be back in a second, and wouldn't reappear for several hours, arms full of exotic fruits or feathers given to him by a special bird or something. When I was very little I cried when he left me because I knew one day he would never return. He scolded me fiercely for that when he did come back many hours later.

He loved nature more than me. I knew that to be a fact. When we traipsed through the Taiwanese countryside he would kneel down and speak to the cranes, letting go of my hand and ignoring me. When we visited Dubai, Africa, he was so busy store keeping he used to lock me in the little room in the back. I can still remember every detail of that room. There were windows, but they were covered with red silk curtains. There were books to read on a shelf near the back wall. There was a small futon just in front of it, the futon on which I slept.

There were no toys and games. My Father said they would spoil me and turn me into nothing more than a pampered human child. Only once did I ask him for a toy.

"Father," I said, pointing at what appeared to be a butterfly attached to a string being held by a young Arabic prince's son. "What is that?"

He looked up from the elderly camel he was speaking to and sent me an annoyed glance. Then he sighed and followed my pointing finger into the sky.

The silken butterfly danced on the wind, dipping and bobbing. I wondered what kind of shadow that creature would cast. It flew so very high! It seemed a wonder to me how the human boy could hold the string so nonchalantly. I'd be afraid to let go by mistake and send the butterfly off onto the winds to some far away place I couldn't reach.

"A kite," my Father said abruptly, and he proceeded to turn away from me again.

I sat, enraptured. This 'kite' was such a lovely thing. I wanted more than anything to go ask the prince's son if I could hold the string, _only for a moment, _but it would be too rude. I was just a stranger, the son of a foreign wanderer. Such luxuries were not meant to be known to me.

But oh, how I wanted that kite!

"Father," I said, unable to hold my tongue any longer. Again my Father turned, and even more cross expression on his face. "May I have a 'kite'?"

"Certainly NOT!" snapped my Father. I shrank back as though his tongue was a whip that had grazed me. "Such a stupid thing to ask for! Do you expect to have everything some mere human _prince_ has? You selfish child!"

He turned away from me with an aura of terrible finality, as if he were hoping I would be gone when he turned around again.

I never forgot that kite. When I first left my Father I prayed to whatever being higher up than I that one day I would own a kite. Oh, how I would have loved to have held that string. I would have let go of it then. I would have watched it float on the wind to my Father's shop just to spite him.

I hated my Father.

And my son, my poor precious son.

My father pried him from my arms. His eyes were smoldering with fury. I leaped up from the ground on which I had been laying and lunged forwards, fearing the worst for my poor child.

"A _half-human_!?" my Father spit. I saw with horror that his arms were wrapped too tightly around my child. I tried to grab onto his arm and loosen his grip, but he slapped me away with his free hand. His nail dug into my cheek. I opened my mouth and tasted the blood as it dripped in. And I smirked.

Because it seemed natural. Blood drawn by my Father seemed just so _natural_.

"I will take this child," said my Father, breathing deeply in an obvious attempt to release his anger. "I will take him with me. I will raise him like I raised you, and _he_, at least, shall be worthy of the Petshop. Think no more of this one. Return to your human sciences."

And he was gone before I could protest.

Oh, how I hated my Father!

He wanted every human dead. He prayed for it, hoped for it, dreamed aloud about it. He told me all about how one day the human empire would crumble and return to dust.

I think the reason I wanted to be a scientist was to do what he could never do.

When he was there, mouth agape, gazing at my success, and when I towered above him and laughed at his weak figure, then I would feel complete. I would take my son back from him and place him atop the same pedestal as myself, another pristine example of Father's failure, and I would spread my arms wide and laugh.

Not as 'Count D.' As his son and complete superiour, DOCTOR D. The one with the knowledge. The one with the ability. The one who loved their son.

'Personal grudge against humanity'?

I cannot ascertain whether I ever really had one.

All I know is that I truly hate my Father.

* * *

A look into the mind of Papa D.

NOTE: I think Sofu D is like I portrayed him. Even when he's (Spoiler) floating around D, he seems more engrossed in eating the fruits off the cake then paying attention to his grandson. Sofu D is in Shin floating aimlessly around the world and not doing anything at all worth mentioning. Occasionally he appears and tried to help D, so I won't say he's useless. However, I do think he prefers D to Papa D.

Well, feel free to drop a review.


End file.
